


Where the Heart Is

by thatbeingsaid



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: I love Sara so don't think I killed her to be mean, I'm sorry Sara (it was for plot purposes only, M/M, Sara is deceased in this story, This is a mob story, descriptions of violence, it comes with the territory, keep that in mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 09:31:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13761222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatbeingsaid/pseuds/thatbeingsaid
Summary: Shane Madej is a broken man. He's driven by the need to avenge his dead wife. So when he's blindsided by a man who he never saw coming, how will he fit him into his scheme of revenge? When feelings start to show themselves again, will Shane even be able to tell the man about his secret life?!!!!! THIS IS STILL A WORK IN PROGRESS!! Don't expect regular updates yet. I'm still stuck on the rest of this chapter tbh. Even the title is subject to change.





	Where the Heart Is

It was 2:30 in the afternoon, and Shane Madej had a personal vendetta against the man currently tied up in the chair sitting across from him. Shane had thought he was so, so close to finding the person responsible for the betrayal to the family, but it had all been a dead end. All he had was a distraction, hired by the traitor to shake him off of their trail.

It had been three years since his Sara had been killed; an unfortunate casualty in the never-ending war between families battling for dominance in New Orleans. The two main rivals for the better part of a century had been the Madej family and the Rubin family. They’d been fighting non-stop, and the marriage between Shane and Sara was supposed to fix everything. It was supposed to bring peace, not only to the families, but to the entire city of New Orleans, and it had… for a while.

After Shane and Sara had married, he was happy. He cared deeply for her, and she felt the same about him. It took three years, but they finally welcomed a daughter, and a son a few years after that. It seemed as if everything were going right in the world, and the families were happy. Unfortunately, it was only six years of marriage before things went south, when Sara was killed by a bullet meant for him.

That had been three years ago, and Shane still hadn’t found the family responsible. He wasn’t stopping, though; he wouldn’t stop until he found who killed her and ruined his life. The Shane from three years ago wouldn’t recognize the man standing in the dingy basement of a casino night club, interrogating a man for information he might not even have.

Shane used to be more free-spirited. He used to see his children every single day, and read them stories before they went to bed. His pessimism used to simply be sarcasm, but now his entire personality was changed. He hadn’t seen his children in two days, and he couldn’t even look them in the eye without being consumed by guilt for their mother’s death. Sometimes he wondered if things wouldn’t have been better off if the bullet had hit its intended target.

He sighed as he ran his hands over his face. He could sense that Andrew, his head of security (and basically his right-hand man) had returned, and was standing a few feet behind him as always. Andrew was used to seeing the exhaustion that Shane was forced to deal with on a daily basis, and the man in the chair across from them wouldn’t live to speak about it, so it didn’t matter anyway.

The metal of the gun felt cool in his hand, just like he remembered it at twelve, when he shot a gun for the first time. It was the one thing that never changed; the familiar weight in his hand, the cold metal matching the coldness of his own heart as he aimed it right between the other man’s eyes. He used to force himself to ignore it, the killing used to be what he hated the most. Now, he almost reveled in it. Any one of these men that he aimed for could have been the one to pull the trigger when Sara died. It was easy for Shane to see them as guilty.

“Alright, buddy,” Shane said. “Let’s cut to the chase here. Who do you work for?”

The man laughed, showing where some of his teeth had been knocked out. “They told me all about you, you know? The man who makes promises he can’t keep; the worst possible choice for a ruling family in New Orleans. There will never be peace while you’re here,” he said.

Shane rolled his eyes. Why were they always so willing to die? “Look, I can’t say I’ll let you live, but I can make death a lot easier for you if you just tell me who you work for.”

“You can make my death easy, huh?” the man asked. “Tell me, Shane, is death ever easy for anyone?”

“I’m not here to talk philosophy with you, idiot,” Shane replied.

The man shook his head, as much as he could with the pain it probably caused him. “No,” he replied. “You’re here to avenge your wife.”

“Stop it,” Shane warned.

“Tell me, Shane, was her death easy?” the man taunted.

Shane’s hand instantly gripped the man’s neck as tightly as it could, the leather glove he wore would make sure he didn’t leave any prints behind. “I warned you,” Shane hissed. “You don’t even get to speak her fucking name, you piece of shit.”

He turned to Andrew, nodding, and Andrew opened the doors to snap his fingers. Garrett and Zack came in, and Shane heard Andrew giving them instructions as he walked out the door. If he wanted his death to be rough, Shane would happily oblige. Shane ran his fingers through his hair, trying his best not to let the man’s words affect him.

Andrew left the interrogation room, closing the doors behind him, and locking in the sounds of yelling and fists hitting flesh. Garrett and Zack were always the best at their job; he’d have to pay them overtime for this. It was only fair. Andrew must have noticed Shane’s furious expression, because he actually patted Shane on the shoulder in a comforting gesture. Andrew was a man of few words, so this was probably the best Shane was going to get. He definitely needed a drink.

* * *

It was 2:30 in the afternoon, and Ryan Bergara had a personal vendetta against his alarm clock. It seemed as though the stupid thing never rang unless he was in the middle of a very good dream. He’d be right at the good part, and would be jolted awake by the shrill sound of a madman’s invention. He turned and knocked the alarm clock off of the night stand in an effort to silence it.

He had started working enough time into his daily schedule to lay in bed every afternoon, wondering whether or not going into work was actually worth it. The previous night had been hell on his nerves, with one of the other bartenders quitting mid-shift, and the summertime crowd staying up to party all night long, demanding drinks faster than he could possibly provide them.

Now, for the next five days, he would take groups of tourists – mostly middle-aged couples and their uninterested teenage children – and show them around the most haunted spots of the French Quarter. To be honest, he loved his job as a haunted tour guide; the supernatural was something of a passion for him, but he desperately wished that he could have one night off a week.

Maybe he should call off, just this once. He wouldn’t make a habit of it; he’d just take this one day off and sleep until tomorrow. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask for, right? But he had a perfect record so far. He hadn’t missed a day of work since he started, and he’d been there for over a year now. His boss was impressed, and Ryan was a people-pleaser; he didn’t want to ruin a winning streak. What if he had an emergency later on and needed the time off?

Ryan groaned and grabbed his phone.

 **Ryan (2:37pm)** : Quick, say something to talk me out of quitting my job at the bar.

 **Steven (2:37pm)** : Go to your front door and look down.

What the hell did that mean? Ryan was wide-awake now, wondering whether or not Steven had gone crazy. He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and padded his way to his front door. Just as Steven instructed, he looked down. On the floor, beneath the mail slot in the door, was a pile of letters. From the very top letter, Ryan could see that they would probably all be the same thing – bills.

He picked them up, and as he leafed through them, he saw what Steven was talking about. Each one had a bright red stamp on it, saying things like _overdue_ , _late notice_ , _cut-off notice_ … There was no way he could quit now; not if he wanted to keep things like water and electricity. The job he loved only paid enough for him to make rent; he needed his exhausting job at the bar for everything else. Steven was right; he couldn’t _afford_ to quit.

 **Ryan (2:43pm)** : Thanks

Steven texted back a heart emoji almost immediately, and Ryan got dressed for work. His first tour began at 5pm. If he were lucky, he might have time to stop off at Steven’s and get a cookie or something. If he could just make it through August, he’d be golden, and the off season would give him two days off per week. All he needed to do was last until September.

* * *

Shane had been sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of bourbon, trying his best to make himself not down the whole bottle. The only reason he hadn’t downed the glass and asked for more is because Zach, the owner’s son, was working behind the bar today. Zach’s father managed all of Madej Enterprises’ casinos, so they’d practically grown up together. Zach was one of the few people outside of Shane’s inner-circle who would tell Shane to fuck off and not care one bit; it was refreshing, and Shane loved it.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and when he took it out, he saw a message from Jen. She was his children’s nanny, but she was also a very close friend. She had been one of Sara’s closest friends, despite their age difference, and Shane found it shockingly easy to befriend her as well. She had sent him her daily report for how the kids’ day went, which was something she didn’t have to do when Sara was alive; he was always there to experience how their day went himself.

He entered the passcode to his phone and opened the message. It was a picture of his two beautiful children – six year old Leah, and three year old Arthur – and they were both smiley-faced and cheerful-looking. Leah was holding up the homework that she’d gotten an A on, and Arthur was holding up a finger painting that he’d done. Apparently they’d had a good day, but they were wondering if they would see him tonight.

Shane texted Jen that he would try to make it home tonight to see them, but he didn’t know if he’d actually be able to manage it. The man he’d been interrogating all morning had been posing as his auditor for months now, and he’d need to start going over his books to make sure that he hadn’t been screwing him over where money was concerned. Madej Enterprises had so many businesses that it’d take forever for him to go over the books one-by-one, and to be honest, it’s not how he wanted to spend his time.

He was scrubbing his hands down his face when he felt a hand clap on his shoulder. When he looked up, he noticed Brent hopping up onto the barstool next to him. “How’d the questioning go, boss?” he asked.

Shane shrugged. “As well as could be expected,” he replied.

Brent had only started working for the family about six months before Sara died. He was originally supposed to be his body guard, but after Sara died, Brent became more like Shane’s personal assistant. He kept up with Shane’s schedule, shipments, meetings, and anything else that needed keeping up with. He was good at what he did, too, and Shane liked having him around. He was sociable, but he didn’t feel the need to fill every second with conversation; he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

“I got some good news for you,” Brent said.

Shane swirled his drink. “Oh good,” he said sarcastically, “I could use something to brighten up my day.”

“The mole didn’t get too far into the family’s finances. It seems he was mostly interested in feeding as much info as possible back to his superiors, and the only position you had open was auditor, so that’s what he had to go with to infiltrate,” Brent explained.

“So how many books am I going to have to pour over, and for how long?” Shane asked.

“There’s only three different businesses that he seemed interested in, but they’re the ones that bring in the most money for the family,” Brent explained.

Shane finished the rest of his drink and stood from his seat. “Alright,” he sighed. “Just type up the details and leave them on my desk at the office. I need a break.”

“Will do, boss!”

Shane said goodbye to Zach and left the building. The bar was stifling, and the air outside wasn’t much better. He loosened his tie and took his suit jacket off. It’d be a pain in the ass to carry around everywhere, but there was no other option. He was going to walk home, when he caught sight of a tour being given by a very enthusiastic – very short – man. Madej Enterprises owned the haunted tours company; even though he thought the notion of ghosts was pure bullshit, Sara had thought it’d be a good investment.

He usually joined in on the tours when he wanted to check on the quality; most of the guides knew him by now. But this man he’d never seen before. He’d remember if he had, that’s for sure. According to his watch, it was only 7pm. He had enough time to join in for the rest of the tour and be home before his kids’ bedtime. He made his way across the street, and snuck into the back of the group, where no one would notice him.

* * *

Ryan was already on his second tour of the day, and he was happy he’d gotten out of bed. Two couples in his first tour had gone to Ryan’s manager to compliment his storytelling, which earned him a thumbs-up from the difficult-to-please man, and brightened Ryan’s day a bit. He was towards the end of the second tour, and the people had been hanging onto his every word for the entire day. It was an amazing feeling, to know that you capture the attention of so many people at once.

In the final thirty minutes of the tour, he took the group to the LeClair House. The LeClair House was a favorite of Ryan’s, mostly because of its long history and stunning curb appeal, so he really made sure to get into the story. They had reached the LeClair House, and Ryan had turned back to his group to see a new addition. In the very back was an abnormally tall man; obviously he’d ushered himself into the group. Ryan’s manager would be very unhappy if anyone got in the group without paying, but this man was cute, so Ryan decided not to say anything. Instead, he’d wait until the tour was over and everyone left before he brought it up.

“So here we are at the LeClair House,” Ryan began. “It’s a house that’s been around for as long as there’s been a New Orleans, according to some local legends, and with a history that long there’s no way it’s not haunted.”

People began taking pictures with their phones and cameras. “Are there any records to show if the house is actually as old as New Orleans?” the tall man asked.

“New Orleans itself was founded in 1718, and we have records of this house already standing during that time, so I’d imagine that the legends are at least partially true,” Ryan replied.

“That would make it nearly 300 years old. I’m impressed it’s still standing,” the man remarked.

Ryan nodded; he, too, had thought that when he first moved to New Orleans. He’d spent months learning about the history of the city, and he lost himself in the fascination of just how old it was. “It’s an impressive thing. I don’t think you’d see many modern buildings that could last a century, let alone three,” he replied.

The man offered him a fond smile, the kind of smile you give a person who says exactly what you’ve been thinking. He had a nice smile; it almost took away the ancient look in his eyes. It made him look years younger than Ryan had thought he was when he first snuck into the group. Now that Ryan had a chance to really look at him, he saw how handsome the man actually was. It was only when one of the older gentlemen in the front of the group cleared their throat that Ryan realized he’d been staring for a bit longer than was appropriate.

He noticed the tall man smirk, and he could feel his own face flushing red. “Now, there’s a very interesting story about this house…”

* * *

The tour was, unfortunately, over. Shane honestly hadn’t meant to fluster the shorter man, but apparently it was quite easy to do. That fact pleased him for reasons he couldn’t put into words. Instead of dwelling on his feelings, he was content to listen to the rest of the guide’s stories about the houses they looked at. Shane wasn’t a believer – he just couldn’t make himself believe in things he had no proof of – but this tour guide had a way of telling stories that made him long for them to be true.

Shane found himself hanging onto every single word, caught up in the spectacle that was ghosts and the supernatural. The guide would make jokes that actually had him chuckling, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had shown any sort of genuine joy. When the tour was over, the guide looked like he wanted to talk, but considering he’d been sequestering himself away from the world for so long now, he didn’t think he could handle a one-on-one conversation with the interesting man; at least, not without having some sort of upper-hand.

When the guide was answering questions of one of the tourists, Shane knew who he needed to go see if he wanted information on this tour guide. He couldn’t seem to figure out why he was so interested in a random man, so he just told himself it was because the man worked for a company his family owned, so why shouldn’t he know some information about him? He was just protecting his own interests, right? Either way, he was two blocks away before he knew what his legs were doing, and the next thing he knew, the bright light from the neon sign for Deviant Demon was glaring into his eyes.

Deviant Demon was the first nightclub the Madej Family had gained control over when they spread their Chicago empire to control New Orleans. It had seen its fair share of turf-wars between the Madejs and Rubins, but that was all in the past now. Even after Sara’s death, the Rubin family hadn’t shown interest in taking out their grief on the Madejs, and whether or not if was because of the kids, or because they had actually grown to like him too, Shane was thankful for it.

The Deviant Demon was quite special to Shane. Most of his friends outside of the family worked there, and the man he could consider to be one of his greatest assets was a club favorite. Eugene moved to New Orleans from Texas right after graduating high school. He had hoped to attend college here, but when his scholarship fell through, he found a job dancing at The Deviant Demon, and never looked back. He was a favorite of the patrons, and many came back every summer just to see him. He knew everything about everyone, and that was why Shane had hired him as sort of an unofficial informant. If Shane needed to know something about someone, all he had to do was talk to Eugene.

That’s why Shane was here now. The night was young – in fact, some might say it hadn’t even begun – but it was dark outside. Once the sun set and the moon rose, the partying began. The club wasn’t as full as Shane had ever seen it, not even close, but there were still quite a few people out dancing and having a good time. Shane remembered when that was him; when he would go to the club for dancing and fun, and of course to get his weekly report from Eugene.

He found Eugene on stage, of course, where he seemed to belong. The stage was like home to the talented man, and judging by the cheers from the audience, they would agree with that statement. Eugene immediately noticed Shane, because who wouldn’t notice a man taller than most of the crowd, but didn’t miss a beat in his dance as he nodded to him. Shane nodded towards the bar before going there to take a seat.

When Eugene was finally finished, he left the stage so another dancer could come up, and Shane watched him make his way through the crowd to the bar. He hopped up on one of the barstools, and somehow made being sweaty look cool. Shane would never know how he did it, but he was glad he did, because it was how Shane got a lot of useful information.

“What’s up, boss?” Eugene asked. “You usually don’t come in until Fridays.”

Shane took a sip of his drink before saying; “I need to know if you have information on a certain person I met today.”  

“The answer’s probably yes,” Eugene quipped.

“He’s a tour guide with the haunted tour company,” Shane explained. “Dark hair, brown eyes, about this tall…” He held his hand about a foot lower than his own height, and Eugene laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. I know who you’re talking about,” he said through his chuckles. “His name is Ryan. He works here on weekends.”

That got Shane’s attention. Shane avoided the club on weekends, usually, because it was so packed. He was somewhat okay in social situations, but wall-to-wall sweaty and gyrating bodies just didn’t do much for him anymore. No wonder he’d never seen Ryan before. He wondered if Ryan were a dancer like Eugene; after seeing Ryan’s tanned skin and muscular arms in a tanktop that evening, half of him hoped that he was, but the other half pushed that thought to the back of his mind.

“So, what does he do here?” Shane asked.

Eugene smirked, like he knew exactly what Shane had been thinking. “He’s not a dancer,” he said. “Although, I wish he were. He’d bring in a lot of revenue for this place. Nah, he’s a bartender. He moved in from California about a year ago.”


End file.
